


In Preparation for the Dawn

by Verdant_Melancholy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 07 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdant_Melancholy/pseuds/Verdant_Melancholy
Summary: In the wake of alliances and sworn oaths, the Starks in Winterfell must prepare for the coming Winter, assailed by fear and folly from every corner. As the forces of Westeros converge on the ancestral seat of House Stark, the coming of the Dawn may be decided by tenuous bonds forged in blood.





	1. Wolves in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Mixture of show and book-canon. Troop numbers will generally follow the books instead of the show though (since the latter often doesn't make sense in this regard).

_Sansa I_

 

Aside from the crackling of the fireplace, the rhythmic tapping of her finger was the only sound that penetrated the room.

Sansa sat composed before her desk, attention focused solely on the scrolls in front of her. The one to the right was cracked and stained, the signs of it having been written at a war camp made clear. The remnants of the red sealing wax were still visible on the edges.

Despite herself, she drifted back to the other scroll.

It was perfectly preserved with nary a tear nor crease out of place. The sealing wax that secured it had long since been thrown away, but Sansa could still picture it. The sight of a grey direwolf had never been so bitter until now.

“This is good news, isn’t it?” Arya asked.

Sansa pushed her dark thoughts aside and looked to her sister. “So it would seem. Our nuncle has been freed from his confinement. He holds the Twins and has rallied the Riverlords to his cause. He means to lay siege to Riverrun and reclaim it from the Lannisters.”

Arya smiled slightly at the last part. “Killing Lannisters is always good news.”

“Unless of course, it ruins our brother’s precious alliance with Cersei Lannister.”

Her sister looked away at that. Sansa couldn’t help but shake her head. _She is still so unsure of how to feel about your actions, Jon._

Sansa felt the same. Her emotions seemed to shift every time she read Jon’s letter (which she had done half a hundred times). Shock, outrage, hurt, anger, disappointment, and despair all swirled in her breast when she looked upon her brother’s words.

_He went south a king. He returns a lord sworn to a foreign queen._

What galled her most though, was the apparent secrecy in Jon’s abdication. He had told her nothing in what few letters he had sent from Dragonstone. Nothing to indicate he intended to bend the knee and take Daenerys Targaryen as his queen. In her pettiest moments, she wondered if he had even given it much thought before he knelt.

_I’ve heard gossip that the Dragon Queen is quite beautiful...._

Sansa frowned, as she often did when recalling the words of the late Lord Baelish. She did not want to consider that train of thought and where it led. Did not want to consider how truthful it might be. Did not want to remember how a heart in love could slay a man as easily as a sword could, as Robb and her mother had learned.

Arya was looking to her again though, so Sansa refocused on the task at hand. “In any case, Lord Edmure cannot commit troops to our cause until he has retaken the Riverlands. His men would abandon him otherwise.”

Her sister nodded. “Fair enough, I suppose. What of the Vale?”

Sansa massaged her temples with a gloved hand. “Lord Royce should be on his way back from the Eyrie as we speak. After he delivered Baelish’s body to Lord Arryn, he promised to load ships from Gulltown with as much food and men as he can and make for White Harbor.”

Arya considered her words. “Meaning we will have some 15,000 men at Winterfell awaiting Jon when he arrives, not including the other troops we have spread throughout the North.”

“Unless Jon arrives before Lord Royce.”

“He will not.”

Both sisters turned to the fireplace, where their brother had spoken from. He had been silently gazing into the flames as they talked strategy, but now he seemed to want to contribute.

“Oh?” said Sansa, “You sound quite certain of that, Bran.” Her brother merely looked at her as he always did nowadays, with unfathomable eyes that she could not read.

Arya moved away from her to stand by his side. “Do you see visions in the flames now as the followers of the red god do?”

There was the barest hint of a smile on Bran’s face. “No. Some draw their strength from the fire. I am not one of them. I draw my strength from the roots and the dark.”

That made no sense to Sansa at all, so she went back to her scrolls. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of Samwell Tarly and Ghost. While the direwolf was always welcome, the news Lord Tarly brought was not.

“The Lords Glover and Cerwyn, as well as Lady Mormont, beg for the honor of remaining in Winterfell until the King returns,” said Sam, his face pinched from the cold outside.

 _Jon isn’t a king anymore_. “I am not surprised. They have likely heard the rumors from the South and are merely waiting for Lord Royce to return before demanding an explanation.”

Sam looked stricken at that. “And what explanation will we give them, my Lady?”

 _That is the question we must answer, and soon_. Sansa did not know what course of action to take. She did not know how to pacify the Northern lords in this regard. She did not even know the details of Jon’s agreement with the Dragon Queen. _He calls himself Warden now, so surely it is just a continuation of the North’s situation for much of its recent history?_   Subjects of the Iron Throne. The thought made her mouth taste of ash.

Perhaps seeing her distaste, Sam spoke up, “Mayhaps we can turn to the Manderlys for aid? Lord Wyman is still the richest of your bannermen, from what I have read.”

Sansa considered his suggestion. “True, but I do not trust him. He did not aid us in the retaking of Winterfell, and I have heard whispers that he had his own plans to unseat the Boltons. Likely after they had exhausted themselves slaughtering Jon and myself.”

Sam nodded at her words but Sansa noticed he risked a glance at Bran. When he found the Stark boy already staring at him, he swiftly turned away. _Odd._

Sansa took the time to consider the man before her. Sam was smart and hardworking and had become something of a steward since arriving at Winterfell. He helped with the management of the household and distribution of supplies. His maester training was far from completed but he apparently knew enough to assist Maester Wolkan when needed. She was grateful for his help, but something did not sit right with her. It seemed as if he was hiding something.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Bran. “Lord Tarly, mayhaps you could take me to the Godswood? I wish to pray.” Sam nodded eagerly and soon enough he and her brother were gone.

Sansa narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Arya, who had knelt to scratch Ghost’s ears, spoke her mind. “They’re hiding something.”

“I’ve noticed. I am grateful that Bran has found himself a confidant, but I mislike being played the fool. Tell me, Arya. What use are visions if they cannot be used to our advantage?”

Arya snorted loudly and continued to pet Ghost, who leaned into her touch.

With just the two of them in the room, Sansa felt she could be more open. “To speak truly, I am at a loss. My bannerman plot sedition within my own home and my own brother forges alliances with women I do not trust without even asking for my input. I…don’t know what to do.”

“Sansa,” Arya said as she turned to face her, “I don’t have the answers you seek. I don’t think anyone at Winterfell does. But I know this. We still have time to figure our way out of this mess. And I believe we will, if we don’t murder each other first that is.”

The jest was dark and in poor taste, but it made Sansa smile all the same. “Thank you, Arya.”

Her sister nodded, said her goodbyes to Ghost, and took her leave.

Sansa leaned back in the chair and heaved a sigh. Truly, there was nothing she would not give for the simpler days of spring.


	2. The Hedge Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out way longer than I intended.

_Jaime I_

 

Jaime didn't think there was a time in his life he had felt more conflicted.

A part of him ached in a near constant thrum of disquiet. He knew he closed a door back in King's Landing when he left. Cersei was like Wildfire, indiscriminate and all consuming. She would not forgive his abandonment the same way she had grown to forgive his physical shortcomings. There was a debt between the two of them that would have to be collected some day. If he survived that long.

And yet despite the ache in his chest, Jaime had never felt more alive. For the first time in a long while he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was doing the right thing. Cloaked in a studded leather tunic, a steady horse beneath him, and a good sword at his hip, Jaime felt whole and strong again. _And my stump hasn't throbbed in days._

Jaime led his courser through a small grove of trees. The chill in the air nipped at his throat so he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He was lucky the South had only seen flurries of snow so far. _If winter were to come in full before I reached Winterfell....._

He banished that thought from his mind. He was not going to die frozen on the side of the road. He'd meet his end with a sword in his hand, fighting dead men and whatever other abominations were coming from beyond the Wall. _That would be a fine ending to my page in the White Book._

After passing the trees Jaime dismounted awkwardly and tied his horse's reins to a branch. He was beginning to pull the salted beef from his pack when he heard a rustle from behind him. Without giving anything away, Jaime pretended to rummage through his supplies while discretely slipping his good hand to the hilt of his dirk. The smooth grip was a comfort and he eased a bit of the blade from its sheath. After a moment there was a cry from above and he jerked his head up. 

A raven perched in the tree above where his horse was tethered.

It was staring at him.

Jaime eased his hand away from the dagger and continued his rummaging. He tried to ignore the sense of foreboding in his belly. He had begun to have queer dreams as of late, all involving ravens. They followed and guided him through ghostly battlefields and empty castles. One time he had come across a fork in the road and, recalling his dream from the previous night, turned left as the raven had bid him. He had done it purely on a whim. Hours later he learned from a fellow pilgrim that a group of bandits had set up close to the Kingsroad and that he was lucky to have avoided them. Jaime had thanked the man and tried to ignore the cold sweat running down his back. He was wary of ravens ever since.

After a quick meal, Jaime mounted his horse again and continued on. A few more hours and he would be at Saltpans. He hoped the people there would know what had become of the Twins. _Depending on who holds it now, my journey will be far more complicated than I would hope._

A shriek in the distance jolted Jaime from his thoughts. He pulled his horse to a stop and waited. He strained his ears for anymore cries. After a moment, he heard what could have been sobbing. It sounded like a child. He pushed his horse off the road and into the hedges. Now he could hear shouting and stomping as if a mighty argument was taking place.

Jaime stopped and slid off his horse as quietly as he could. Fingering his sword, he crept forward towards the source of the disturbance.

Past the hedges was a small clearing. In the center was a group of twenty people. Jaime saw that they were a ragtag gaggle of men, women, and children. The mothers were clutching the sobbing young ones close to their skirts.

Jaime saw the four armed men spread around the shivering smallfolk and understood.

His eyes hardened and he gripped his sword tightly.

_Fucking bandits._

Two of them were locked in a vicious war of curses. Jaime loosened his grip and tried to catch what they were saying.

"We wasting our time here, ya cunt."

"Fuck yourself. We'll leave once I've had my fun."

The one who had just spoken eyed a crying mother hungrily and she averted her eyes at his stare.

Jaime made his decision. He backtracked to his horse making sure not to draw any attention. He laid his hand on the side of the beast's head and whispered soft words when it began to fidget. The odds were not good. He was one against four. He had only hand. He might have been able to save those people if he was young and whole again, but now......

He wondered what Brienne would do in this situation? Likely something brave and foolish. Jaime felt himself smile.

He pulled the travel pack off the horse's back and placed it in a bush. He pulled himself up and adjusted the saddle. He drew his sword and pushed his horse into a slow trot. It took but a moment until he saw the clearing. 

Jaime released a shuddering breath. His insides were aflame with excitement and fear in equal measure. 

Gathering his courage, Jaime gave a roar and dug his heels in deep. His horse shot forward like a great brown gust of wind.

The reaction was instantaneous. The bandits all jerked in the direction he was charging. Jaime angled his hips and the horse dipped to the right, putting him on a collision with the nearest bandit. He was a big man, dressed in rusty armor and carrying a wicked looking axe. His gaped stupidly at the charging horse coming his way. A true knight likely would have dismounted and forgone fighting from the saddle while his opponents were afoot. 

Jaime rode right over him.

Ignoring the sound of crunching bones, he raised his sword at a second bandit who came at him with a spear. A smarter warrior would have tried to kill his horse, but the bandit practically ignored it in favor of attempting to skewer Jaime. Bending his head to avoid the sharpened tip, Jaime chopped down as hard as he could with his left arm. He felt a wet  _thud_ as his sword cut deep into the spearman's head. It took a great effort to pull his sword out and he nearly dropped it when he finally managed to get free. 

His bumbling ended up saving his life. As he leaned back to settle himself, there was a loud  _schhwaff_  and a rush of wind passed by his head. He jerked away on instinct and looked up to see the third bandit kneeling and trying to reload a crossbow.

Jaime kicked his horse and shot towards him. It struck him that he'd never make it in time. The man would have enough time to load and fire at him before he got within sword range. As the bandit raised his beady eyes and grinned through yellow teeth, an idea came to Jaime.  

He raised his sword and threw it as hard as he could. 

The bandit had a look of surprise on his face when Jaime's sword hit the dirt and bounced upwards, slapping him in the chest. His crossbow fired prematurely and whizzed by Jaime harmlessly. Cursing, the man dropped his now useless weapon and drew a longsword from his hip.

Fumbling behind him, Jaime felt his hand close around the hilt of a sword and pulled. Widow's Wail slid out of its sheath as smooth as silk. Jaime gave a shout as he reached the bandit and cut down with all his strength. His adversary's sword was an old and rusty piece of metal he most likely had stolen from a dead man. It snapped like a twig from the kiss of Jaime's Valyrian Steel. 

The bandit's head bounced to the ground and rolled some distance to lay near the fallen crossbow. 

Breathing heavily, Jaime turned his horse towards the final bandit and raised his sword. He hoped he could not see how Jaime's arm trembled with exhaustion.

He was an ugly man, with grey hair and an ugly nose made uglier by the many burst blood vessels in it. His eyes reminded Jaime of a rat. He had a dagger out and under the throat of a woman who was trying desperately not to cry.

Despite his weakness, Jaime's voice was steady when he spoke, "If you let her go, I will spare your life."

The bandit sneered. "You think I'm stupid? What's stopping you from just stabbing me in the back after I let her go?"

Jaime smiled. "Honor."

You've got to be pulling my-"

The bandit never finished. Two of the men standing behind him seized his arms and wrenched the dagger from his hands. He gave a cry as another man kicked him in the belly. He collapsed to the ground as a flurry of kicks and punches rained down from the vengeful smallfolk. 

Jaime couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. _Now that's what I call justice._

He sheathed Widow's Wail and dismounted to check on the people. He was caught off guard when the woman who had been held at knife point flung herself at him. 

"Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! I thought he would kill me for sure. Oh, you're a true knight m'lord!"

He patted her head awkwardly and assured her it was no trouble. He suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides by thankful fathers, tearful mothers, and whooping children begging him to let them see his sword. It was strange and off putting, but it reminded him of days long gone when his honor was not so soiled.

The blare of a trumpet and the thundering of boots shattered the whimsical scene. 

Jaime threw himself in front of the smallfolk as a group of twenty armored pikemen marched out of the bushes and into the clearing. There commander was mounted and rode near the head of the column. They were all clad in the crimson armor that marked them as retainers of House Lannister. 

_Fuck me._  

He drew his sword. The situation was hopeless, but he did not want it said that Jaime Lannister had died a coward.

The soldiers paused their march as the commander raised a hand. He peered at the group before him through the holes of his great helm. The top of his helm was adorned with what Jaime thought was......a flaming tree?

He smiled. Perhaps all was not lost. 

"Name yourself," the commander demanded.

"From where I come from, it is proper etiquette to name yourself first before demanding it of others."

The commander stiffened. As did his men. One of them stepped forward but was stopped at the raised hand of his commander.

"Ser Lucas Marbrand, if it pleases you. Now you will name yourself or you will hang."

Some of the smallfolk looked about to protest but Jaime calmed them quickly. He had to play this part carefully for all their sakes.

"I must say, you aren't as fat as I remember. War seems to agree with you, Lucas."

Ser Lucas glowered. "How _dare_ you. Who do you think you-"

"Jaime Lannister."

The silence that followed his proclamation was deafening. The soldiers looked to each other. The smallfolk around Jaime began to whisper loudly amongst themselves. Ser Lucas removed his helm and squinted at him. His hair had more grey in it than the last time he had seen the man, but there was no denying that this was the uncle of Jaime's old friend, Ser Addam Marbrand. 

He seemed to finally recognize him, for he shouted loudly, "Ser Jaime! Gods be good, it is you! When we received the messenger from King's Landing, I was certain we'd never find you in this damned maze of a forest."

Jaime froze. If they were acting on Cersei's orders he was doomed. They'd drag him back to the Red Keep, to his sister.......

He widened his stance and clutched his sword tighter. Before he could move forward to what was certainly his doom, Ser Lucas continued his rambling.

"Addam will be quite relieved to see you, as will Lord Bronn."

That stopped Jaime in his tracts. "Lord....Bronn?"

Ser Lucas ceased his rant and frowned at Jaime. "Yes, he was the one who delivered the Queen's message from King's Landing. Says you came to help us put the Riverlands back to rights but got separated from your detachment. We've been hunting for you ever since."

Sheathing his sword with a hearty chuckle, Jaime said, "Well we wouldn't want to keep Lord Bronn waiting now, would we?"

 

* * *

 

After a few hours ride, Jaime and Ser Lucas came upon the Lannister encampment. It was Northwest of Harrenhal and strategically placed to allow them to strike out against the forces besieging Riverrun. The sight of a proper military camp brought Jaime back to his time leading the Lannister army alongside Bronn. Before Daenerys Targaryen had laid waste to it.

Jaime and his escort made their way to the commander's tent. The burning tree of House Marbrand streamed above as he pushed aside the flap of the entrance and went in.

There were two men seated at a table with a map spread out on it. He knew both of them. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater leaned back in his chair with his legs kicked up before him. Ser Addam Marbrand was bent over the map with a look of focus on his face. Both looked up at as he walked in. Bronn inclined his head while Ser Addam smiled and stood up. He moved to take Jaime's hand. 

"Damn good to see you, Jaime."

"You as well, Addam. How goes the war?"

Ser Addam gave a tired sigh. "Not well. Edmure Tully has rallied the Riverlords and raised his banners in revolt once again. He holds the Twins and currently lays siege to Riverrun."

Jaime took in the new information. "And who stands against him?"

"Emmon Frey commands some 4,000 Frey levies, supplemented by about 800 Lannister men. 

_Emmon Frey couldn't command himself out of a wet sack._

Nodding, Jaime turned his attention to Bronn. "Could you give us the room for a moment, Ser? I must speak privily with Ser Addam."

Bronn stared at him for a long while. Eventually he gave a shrug and said, "Knock yourself out, my lord. I'll be outside drinking your wine."

He got up and left the two knights to their talk. Ser Addam raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I have a feeling this won't be pleasant."

Jaime nodded sadly. "Afraid so. I'm here against Cersei's orders."

That got his friend's attention. "But I thought-"

"You thought wrong. I'm sure you've heard about the recent parlay in King's Landing?" at Addam's nod Jaime continued, "Well, Cersei made false promises. She swore aid to Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow in their war in the North, but she's gone back on that."

Ser Addam shifted uncomfortably. "Can't rightly say I'm surprised. Your sister does what she wants."

"Not this time," Jaime snapped, "I'm traveling North to join the Dragon Queen and the King in the North's army."

His friend looked flummoxed. "That's treason, Jaime."

He smiled sourly. "Is it treason to allow all of Westeros to die for my sister's lies? I have seen what we face, Addam. I have stared down dragons and seen dead men that snarl like mad dogs. All the old tales about magic are real. The Dragon Queen says there's at least a hundred thousand dead men coming for us. I gave my word I would fight against them, or die in the attempt."

Addam leaned his elbows forward on the table and rubbed his eyes. He said, "I don't know what to say Jaime. You sound mad, but half of Westeros swears that dragons have returned and our lack of a proper army proves that true. I'm inclined to believe you about these dead men as well."

If Jaime didn't convince him, he'd never make it North. "Do you trust me, Addam?'

Addam raised his eyes at the question. "Trust? I....yes, Jaime. I trust you."

"Then heed me. If we don't stop this threat from the North, then we will all die. Every man, woman, and child in Westeros. Your father will die. Your wife and daughter will die. How old is Melesa now?"

The color drained from Addam's face. "She's one and twenty. She....she just got married to Merlon Crakehall not two moons ago."

"She won't live to see two and twenty unless we _fight_. Are you with me?"

"I.....am with you. I am with you until the end, Jaime."

Jaime felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, my friend."

Addam still looked bothered. "But what about Riverrun? Do we just abandon the siege?"

Jaime shrugged. "Not quite. I have an idea."

 

* * *

 

"Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to."

Jaime glared at Bronn's wolfish grin. Back on a horse, surrounded by soldiers bearing the leaping trout of House Tully, he was in no mood for the sellsword turned knight's cutting humor.

"If you insist on coming up with these fucking stupid plans, don't get your breeches in a twist when I point out how fucking stupid they are."

Despite himself, Jaime laughed. "I have missed that priceless whit of yours, Bronn."

"If you love it so much you might have warned me that you were abandoning that sinking ship you call a sister."

Jaime sobered. "That was unworthy of me. I should have told you. I thought it might be better for you if you were't involved in my flight."

Bronn snorted. "Your sister has hated me for years. There's no changing that."

Something in his tone caused Jaime to turn and regard him. "Did she try anything with you?"

"No, but I wasn't waiting around to find out. Which reminds me, I have something for you back at camp. I think you'll get a laugh out of it."

Before Jaime could inquire further the group arrived at the Tully camp. He felt a wave of nostalgia come over him as they made their way through the besieger's camp. _This is the third time I have stood on this bank and stared out across the water at Riverrun._

Edmure Tully's tent was hard to miss. It was in the center of the camp and colored in bright red and blue stripes. Their escort led them to the entrance and roughly shoved them inside. 

The rightful Lord of Riverrun sat at a table adorned with parchment. He was scribbling loudly when they walked in. Edmure looked up and started. He looked much better than the last time Jaime had seen him. He had grown a beard, a big red one that made him look fierce. 

Jaime gave a nod. "Lord Edmure."

Edmure shot to his feet, red in the face. "When the Lannisters said they wanted to talk I didn't think they'd send you. I should have you catapulted over the walls into Riverrun to join those Frey bastards."

"Best you not. Poor Emmon might die of fright."

Edmure spat. "Good, I hope all of them choke," glaring openly he asked, "Give me one good reason not to kill you."

"I can give you Riverun without bloodshed."

Edmure paused.

_Now I have his attention._ "Allow me to cross the siege lines and I will force Emmon Frey to submit to you."

He could see Edmure mulling this over. He continued, "Emmon is a weakling and a coward. He also knows that the Freys are now a rarity in the Riverlands. He'll let me get close in hopes I can save him."

"And will you? Save him?"

"Fuck no. I have no love for the Freys."

Edmure regarded him with suspicious eyes. "Why would you do this?"

Jaime adjusted his footing. This would be a harder sell. "I need the Lannister men garrisoned with the Frey forces. There's war brewing in the North and I've pledged to help the King in the North."

That sent Edmure for a whirl. "You? Help the North? You must be japing."

Jaime's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I am deathly serious, Lord Edmure."

His tone must have warned Edmure, for he straightened and glared back. "Are you saying you actually believe this nonsense about dead men and Night Kings?"

"Of course I believe it. It's the truth. The King in the North proved that when he brought a dead man to King's Landing."

Edmure's eyes went wide. "The rumors are true then?"

"Everything you've heard is the truth."

"By the gods," he breathed, "My nieces....they asked for my help and I said no."

"You're quite the loving uncle."

He didn't rise to Jaime's bait for once. "I agree to your terms. I must send aid to Sansa and Arya as quickly as possible. If you say you can get me Riverrun without the blood of my men, then I have no choice but to trust you."

Jaime tried to hide his smirk. "In addition, I shall require the first pickings of the provisions that the Freys have stockpiled. My men will need them for the march North," Edmure looked ready to protest but Jaime cut him off, "And as a token of goodwill, I've sent word for your wife and child. They should be on their way here now."

Edmure's mouth dropped open and then closed rapidly. "Roslin? She's coming here? And she's bringing the baby?"

"It's where they belong."

He looked like he was fighting back tears. "I can never forgive you for what you did to my family, Kingslayer. But...thank you for returning them to me."

Jaime gave a shrug. It felt good, to reunite a family he had once separated. Edmure turned away and began writing furiously. Jaime signaled Bronn that they should leave, but he stopped. "Once last thing Edmure."

Edmure looked up.

"How did you escape the Twins? How did you kill the Freys?"

He frowned at the questions. "I didn't. One day I woke up and the door to my cell was open, same as all the other captives. We thought it was a trick but after a while we realized there were no guards. We found them in the main hall, dead at the dinner tables. Someone poisoned the lot of them."

Jaime felt a chill run down his back.

 

* * *

 

It was almost laughable how easily the Freys let him into the castle. They opened the gate and there was Emmon Frey, blubbering like a fool.

"Oh thank the gods you've come, Jaime. That accursed Edmure Tully butchered my family and now he wants my castle. But you've come to help me defeat them, yes?"  

Jaime smiled. "Certainly."

He drew his dirk and cracked Emmon across the face with his golden hand. He gave a cry and collapsed in a pile. Jaime put his knife to Emmon's throat to still the advancing guards.

"Hear me! The fighting is over! Throw down your weapons and yield, or I shall cut the throat of your lord!"

Nobody moved. Men bearing the twin towers of Frey had their weapons drawn but were frozen in place. He could spot the Lannister soldiers mixed in with the Frey levies.

"Men of the West! Do you want to die for the sake of a Frey? I can think of worst ways to go, but not many!"

Again his answer was silence. Until a single crimson clad soldier stepped forward. He removed his helm and spoke in a Westerlands accent. "Begging m'lord's pardon, but fuck the Freys." He punctured his statement by drawing his sword and pointing it at the nearest Frey. The other Lannister men did the same.

Jaime couldn't recall the last time he'd had such a good day.

 

* * *

"I can't believe you pulled this off."

"Your confidence in me is heartening."

"You want me to sing your praises, try paying me."

Jaime snorted as he and Bronn made their way to the latter's tent. Adding the men from Riverrun to what Ser Addam had under his command, Jaime now had close to 5,000 men. _It's not what Cersei promised, but at least I won't be showing up to Winterfell empty handed._

He turned to Bronn. "What is it that you needs show me? We have a long ride ahead of us. We shall reach the Twins in three days time, and Tully says the Dothraki left it a ruin after they stormed the place. We won't be beating them to Winterfell at the pace they're going, but I'd at least like to arrive before winter ends."

Bronn gave a sharp laugh. "You should be thanking me instead of whinging. If I hadn't lied and said Cersei sent me to find you, you'd have never gotten out of this place alive much less at the head of an army.

"You know a Lannister always pays-"

"I swear I'll cut off your head myself if you say that shite one more time."

He gave a laugh. They arrived at the tent and Bronn turned to him. He had an unusually serious look in his eye.

"Didn't mention it before, but you're not the only the one who left King's Landing in a less than respectable fashion."

"Oh?"

"I had to smuggle myself out of the city. I hid aboard a ship bound for Maidenpool. That's how I got ahead of you."

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "And why did you have to do that?"

"Because I killed a jailor and two of your sister's Queensguard."

"And _why_ did you do that?"

"To get this."

Bronn pushed back the flap of the tent and went inside. Jaime reluctantly followed him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bed, where a figure lay wrapped in furs. Bronn walked over and pulled them back so Jaime could see the figure's face.

It was a woman. She had black hair and what looked like copper skin, though she was so pale it was hard to tell. She blinked open black eyes that were bleary with sleep.

Tyene Sand.

"I imagine she'll win us quite a bit of pull with the Dragon Queen," Bronn explained. At Jaime's expression, he gave a laugh. "Oh come on, as if you've never done something stupid enough to royally piss off that cunt you call a sister."

That, Jaime could not deny.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fight scenes can be hard to write so forgive me if this sucked. Also I know it's unlikely, but I'm fond of the theory that Jaime won't be showing up to Winterfell alone.


	3. Hand of the Queen

_Tyrion I_

 

Having been the Hand of two separate monarchs, Tyrion was well aware that he had one of the most difficult positions in all the Seven Kingdoms. It fell to him to advise his queen on matters of policy, history, law, tradition, and precedent. It was a thankless job, he knew. And it had killed better men than he since the founding of the Targaryen Dynasty. Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and Tywin Lannister were high lords with noble blood in their veins. Yet all found themselves on the wrong end of the Stranger during their tenures as Hand and paid the price for it. _Well, it was a crossbow in my father's case, but I shan't argue semantics for his sake._

Despite all that though Tyrion would not trade his place for all the gold in the world.

For the first time in a long while he had power. _Real_ power. The lives of men, women, and children could be saved or snuffed out on the words of his counsel. He would use his power to help people, naturally. He had chosen to follow his queen for that express reason. But Tyrion could not deny that he found the allure of power that the Dragon Queen offered intoxicating. Almost as intoxicating as the queen herself. Their new ally, the Warden of the North, could attest to that.

Tyrion frowned. That was a problem he would have to deal with soon. He had been prepared to handle Jon Snow mooning after Daenerys. Every man who met her did. He had as well, there was no shame in admitting that. What he was not prepared for was how.....receptive Daenerys was proving to Lord Snow's affections. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but the queen's recent dalliance with Ned Stark's bastard left him with a queer feeling. He had not survived as long as he had without recognizing danger when he saw it, and the looks shared between Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen screamed of trouble. 

As her Hand, it fell to Tyrion to make her understand this.

 _Thankfully a conversation for another day, assuming the queen ever leaves her cabin_. He had not seen Daenerys in a day and a half. Missandei had given the excuse that she was not feeling well due to the rough seas. _As a queen she really should learn to lie better._

Tyrion shook his head as he made his way up the flight of stairs onto the main deck. He had begun to feel cramped in the confines of his cabin and thought some fresh air would do him good. Perhaps it might even cure his hang over. 

It was morning out and the sky was as grey as the wolves of House Stark. He waddled up to the railing and peered over the side. The water was a murky black that hid all that resided beneath. _Hopefully no krakens will come calling during our journey North._

Movement above caught his eye and Tyrion turned in time to watch Rhaegal make a sweeping pass above their fleet. His green scales still managed to look bright in the gloomy winter day. Drogon flew ahead of him and it struck Tyrion that the green dragon was remaining awfully close to his larger brother. Tyrion understood that feeling well.

The sound of muffled boots came to him and Tyrion looked left to see Ser Davos walking down the side of the ship that led to the bow. He looked amused, in an exasperated sort of way. Tyrion hailed him. "A fine morning for sailing, no?"

Ser Davos stopped and looked at him, a crease to his brows. "Aye, if the weather holds. Those clouds make me uneasy though. A storm can come from calmer seas than these in the blink of an eye."

He smiled. "Far be it for me to argue the nature of the seas with the Onion Knight."

Ser Davos did not laugh. In fact he looked rather troubled. _Like he's seen something he shouldn't have._ Tyrion glanced past the man and towards the direction he had come. That queer feeling in his gut returned and he made a sudden decision.

"If you'll excuse me, Ser. I believe I shall take a stroll around the ship and work these stunted legs of mine until they cramp."

The knight stepped slightly to the side. It was enough to block his path. "Your mood might be better served down in the galley with a hot bowl of soup. Or a cup of wine."

Tyrion gave him his ugliest grin. "Of that I do not doubt. Still, a pleasant stroll on such a fine ship is simply too tempting a treat. If you'll excuse me, Ser Davos."

Davos gave a resigned sigh. "Don't come whinging to me later if you find something that twists your breeches."

"I swear it upon my honor." Tyrion waddled past him and towards the bow of the ship. Davos was an experienced sailor. There were few things on a ship that could have unnerved him as badly as he had seemed.

The scene before him as he turned the corner fell into that category quite easily.

At the tip of the bow stood Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen. The queen had her head on Lord Snow's left shoulder and he reciprocated with an arm wrapped around her waist. Both had their eyes craned upward, no doubt enjoying the sight of two dragons wafting lazily through the air. Tyrion gave a quick glance around. Thankfully they were alone. 

Tyrion watched them for a time. He couldn't help but notice how at ease they both appeared. The queen usually held herself to a rigid stance of regality. All straight backed spines and raised chins. But now she appeared to all but melt into Jon Snow's side. Who looked much the same, resting his head on top of hers as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. 

After he realized that they intended to remain there for some time, Tyrion headed back down stairs to the galley. He found Ser Davos enjoying a bowl of soup. There was a glass of wine on the table in front of him. He smiled as Tyrion walked over and scooped up the wine. He drank deeply from it and afterwards said, "Not a single word, smuggler."

 

* * *

 

 The following day it dawned swiftly on Tyrion how politically fucked he truly was.

They were all gathered in the captain's quarters for a council session. It had started badly right from the start. When he, Varys, and Davos all arrived together, they found Lord Snow and the Queen already seated and waiting for them.

Snow was in his chair. 

It was a small detail. They were not even having a proper council meeting (the room was barely even fit for habitation). Still, it rankled Tyrion to be pushed aside so easily. He swallowed his annoyance though and got down to business.

Things only got worse from there. It became abundantly clear that Jon had not consulted his bannermen when he bent the knee. He had simply informed them after he had done so. Tyrion could feel a headache coming on. 

"We need to be ready for anything when we arrive. The Northern lords may not welcome us with open arms."

Jon frowned. "They may have qualms about my decision to abdicate, but they will not turn us away.

Tyrion regarded him with narrowed eyes. "With respect, Lord Snow, I find that dangerously naive. The North chose you as its king. Chose you over a trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark. They gave you a crown despite the madness in doing so. I hardly see how it makes sense that they'll welcome Queen Daenerys as their sovereign simply because you say it is so.

He would not budge. "There will be resistance. I do not deny that. But it will come to nothing. Her Grace needs only show her true self to them and they will see that she is good and right. They will come to believe in her, as I have." He punctuated his point with an open eyed look at Daenerys. His queen's face betrayed nothing, but Tyrion could see her eye's dancing brightly at Jon's words.

He switched tactics. "We should still give close consideration to those who may oppose the change. Would you be so kind as to tell us of your bannermen? The strongest, the proudest, the most pliable and so on?"

Jon Snow did just that. It surprised Tyrion how easily he gave in. _What happened to the tight lipped Northerner whose face may have well been chiseled from ice?_ He glanced at Daenerys. She seemed completely focused on Jon as he spoke. _It would appear my queen has melted him away._ He committed everything Jon said to memory. _The Lords Royce and Manderly appear to be the largest obstacles we must overcome._  

Their discussion of the North continued for some time. Long enough for Tyrion to notice a troubling trend in his queen. Whenever he or anyone else for that matter made a suggestion, Daenerys' gaze would flicker to Jon for a brief moment. It almost appeared that the two were having entire conversations using just their eyes. Jon Snow had no qualms sharing his secrets with his new queen. Tyrion wondered if Daenerys felt the same way. The thought troubled him greatly. 

He decided to press his luck. "Perhaps the situation is not as dire as I had feared. House Manderly appears to be the strongest of your bannermen by far, not counting the Vale of course. If we win them to our cause, the others should fall in line."

Daenerys tilted her head at that. "Yes, but how _exactly_ will we win the Manderlys over?"

Tyrion grinned. "There is always marriage, Your Grace."

Jon coughed uncomfortably. "Pardon, my lord, but Wyman Manderly is near three times her Grace's age."

Daenerys grimaced at the notion, but again her eyes sang a different song. It looked to Tyrion that she was pleased that Jon had spoken up against the match. Throwing caution to the wind, he replied, "Oh, not marriage for the queen. I was thinking along the lines of a match for you, Lord Snow."

The reaction was immediate. Jon stared at him open mouthed. Clearly he had not expected to be discussing his own prospects for marriage that day. Tyrion continued. "Lord Manderly has two young daughters if memory serves. What were their names again, Lord Varys?"

The Spider looked shrewdly at him but obliged. "Wynafryd is the elder and around Lord Snow's age. The younger is Wylla. She is but five and ten, if I am not mistaken." 

"And there we have it. Two beautiful daughters from a rich house to choose from. What more could you ask for?"

The severe downturn of Jon's mouth answered his question clearly. More interesting was the queen's reaction though. She had gone very still. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes..... _I might have just made a grave miscalculation._

Daenerys had purple fire in her gaze when she turned to him. "Lord Snow has already pledged himself to my cause. When the Night King is dealt with, he shall lead my new Northern armies south to deal with Cersei. I see no reason why he must marry some Northern girl to secure loyalty that is already owed to him."

_When it comes to matters of the heart, we rarely allow ourselves to see any reasons that would push one's beloved away, my Queen._

He did not tell her this. Instead he said, "While that may be true, we must accept facts. It is entirely possible that the lords sworn to Winterfell will require more permanent bindings to our cause. Marriage is an easy way to accomplish this as I have told you in the past. Whether it is a lady from the North or even the Vale, Lord Snow's hand in marriage is a valuable piece we cannot ignore."

Daenerys looked ready to roar at him, and he idly wondered if she'd have him thrown overboard or just tied to a long pole so one of her dragons could gobble him up. He never found out as Jon cut through, "I'll do it."

The queen jerked in her seat to face him. She did not even bother to hide the hurt in her eyes. Jon looked at her for a long moment and said, "I shall marry whoever I must in order to secure this alliance. But only if you command it, my Queen."

 _That was well played_. The anger in the queen seemed to dissipate instantly. She nodded at his words, a small and satisfied smile blossoming on her lips. It was not a command she would ever give, Tyrion knew. 

The meeting lasted a short while longer before Daenerys called an end. She commanded him and Varys to come up with methods to win the Northmen's hearts that did not involve selling Jon Snow like a broodmare. 

As he watched Lord Snow depart, and a short while later the Queen herself, Tyrion couldn't help but dread what was to come next.

 

* * *

 

Hours later and he found himself knocking on the queen's door much the way a certain northern fool had not too long ago. He imagined Daenerys' face had a much more pleasant look on it when it was Jon Snow that did the knocking.

"What is it, my lord?"

"Might I trouble you for a moment of your time, Your Grace?"

For moment she looked about to refuse. Until she gave a brisk nod and turned away from the door, allowing him to enter her cabin. She took a seat near the window and waved a hand for him to speak. Tyrion entered and noticed the smell right away. His nose curled at the thick odor in the air. Even with the windows open the room stank of sweat and lovemaking. 

Daenerys did not even look embarrassed. "So what's this about?"

Tyrion decided that subtletly would get him nowhere. "I'd like to discuss Lord Snow."

One perfectly groomed eyebrow shot upward. "Oh? What about him?"

"Your dalliance with him could not have been timed worse."

Any softness on Daenerys' face melted away. Only the Dragon Queen remained when she spoke, "Is that a truth? Well, I never was very good at keeping time. I prefer to live in the moment."

"I am well aware. As your Hand it is my duty to remind you that the future is just as important as the present. Even more so, I'd argue."

"And what is this future you speak of, Lord Tyrion?"

He took a breath. "Well, in the immediate future we have a war against an army of dead men led by a king capable of slaying dragons. It deserves some consideration, in my humble opinion."

Mentioning Viserion's death had been a misstep. The Queen's face darkened into something terrible. " _Do not_ presume to remind me of what I have lost. I have not forgotten. It will stay with me for the rest of my days."

Tyrion gave her a sad nod. "I know, my Queen. I speak so only because I worry for you and your cause. This no time for romantic entanglements. You cannot afford to be distracted."

Daenerys seemed to deflate a bit. "I don't see how it is such a distraction that I enjoy a little relaxation with the King in the North. Where's the harm in that?"

Tyrion bit back a sigh of annoyance. "Because it is clearly not _just_ relaxation, your Grace. If it was you would not still refer to him as King. If it was you would not have been so enraged at my suggestion that Lord Snow marry. If it was you would not have spent the past two days distracted from your duties. If it was, you would not have risked everything to save him from beyond the Wall."

Daenerys' mouth opened to responded but quickly shut again. Her eyes were big and wide as she stared at him. _By the gods, had she thought her feelings a secret?_

After a moment, she gave a sigh. She sounded bone tired and weary. "What would you suggest I do, my lord?"

This would be the difficult part. "It will be hard, your Grace. But I suggest you put Jon Snow aside for now. Dedicate yourself to the liberation of Westeros from the threat of grumpkins and snarks and after that, from my sweet sister. Give the North no cause to slander you with claims that you seduced their king into loving you."

Daenerys smiled bitterly at that. "A fine plan, Tyrion. Except where is the part where I find happiness? Where I do not spend my days alone?"

"When you sit the Iron Throne, you will likely have to marry in order to seal a peace. I shall try to find a husband worthy of you and with time, perhaps you will find happiness in him."

"I didn't do anything, you know."

"What?"

Daenerys had turned away to look out the window. Snow was beginning to fall in a gentle rush of flurries. There was a chill in the air. "To make Jon love me. I didn't do anything special. But he still came to love me."

"And you him."

She jerked around to stare at him. Tyrion met her eyes, unblinking. A moment passed that felt like an eternity. Before Daenerys gave a small nod and turned back to the window.

Tyrion knew a dismissal when he saw it. He walked briskly from her room and down the hall to the galley. It was thankfully abandoned. That night he treated himself to an impressive amount of wine in hopes to drown the deep feeling of annoyance and trepidation in his breast.

A feeling that only intensified when he tried to return to his room only to find Jon once gain in front of the queen's door.  He had a small smile on his face and after a moment, Tyrion saw a slim hand reach forward and pull him into the room by the scruff of his shirt. The door shut with a loud and definite boom. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea that Tyrion's reaction to boatsex is one half "love is a sweet poison that causes problems" and the other half "crap she barely listens to me as is now I'm totally boned". I personally don't really see the show going in the direction of "Tyrion loves Dany" that I see some people speculating about. That being said, I do think we could see that in the books (I love George but I do not doubt that he'd have no qualms adapting the awful love triangle from the original series draft into ASOIAF and just sliding Dany in place of Arya). Thoughts?


End file.
